Chapter 100: Cultivation in the Fast Lane; Xue Nan’s Rebirth

“Breathing Technique: Gazing at the Blood Moon”?

Chen Ye’s expression darkened the moment he read the title.

In this wasteland, avoiding direct eye contact with the crimson moon was Survival 101. When the Anomalies first descended, countless people had gone mad simply by staring up at the sky, their minds shattered by the cosmic horror above. The death toll from the Blood Moon rivaled the casualties caused by the monsters themselves.

And now, this technique wanted him to stare right at it.

Despite his apprehension, Chen Ye read on. He soon realized this wasn’t a traditional martial arts manual with tiered levels of progression. There were no stages, no realms—just a single, terrifying concept.

The technique didn’t categorize the Blood Moon as evil or good. It defined it simply as energy.

According to the text, the moon radiated a chaotic frequency incompatible with human physiology. To harness it, one had to adjust their own internal frequency—their “breath”—to resonate with the moon. It wasn’t about inhaling air; it was about oscillating one’s supernatural energy to match the cosmic broadcast above, filtering the madness into usable power.

Every Sequence Beyonder has a unique bio-frequency, the manual claimed. Find yours, and tune it.

Chen Ye sat cross-legged in his tent, contemplating the logic. It sounded insane, but in a world where trucks could eat zombies, insanity was often the path to power.

He closed his eyes, searching inward. It took time, but eventually, he felt it—a subtle, rhythmic hum lurking beneath his skin, the signature of his existence.

Half an hour later, Chen Ye sat on the sand dune outside his tent. For the first time since the apocalypse began, he raised his head and looked directly at the Blood Moon.

An eerie restlessness instantly clawed at his heart.

Indistinguishable whispers flooded his ears. It was a maddening static—when he tried to focus on the words, they vanished into silence. But the moment he let his guard down, they returned, louder and more urgent. It felt like he had forgotten something critical, a life-or-death task that demanded immediate action, driving a spike of anxiety into his brain.

So this is how people lose their minds, he thought grimly.

Chen Ye forced down the rising panic, counting the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three.

He snapped his eyes shut.

Immediately, he engaged the technique, manipulating his internal energy to pulse in a slow, specific rhythm. The familiar, comforting hum of his own power expanded and contracted, acting as a buffer against the alien noise.

As the internal frequency stabilized, the chaotic energy invading his system changed.

It was like the first snow meeting sunlight.

The violent, restless energy of the moon melted away, filtered by the resonance until it became pure, potent fuel. Chen Ye felt a thrill of discovery—his reserve of supernatural power was swelling, growing visibly with every cycle.

In just one hour of this dangerous meditation, he had accomplished more than he had in days of clumsy, unguided practice.

This breathing technique… it’s a cheat code.

Two hours later, sensing his body had reached its saturation point, Chen Ye slowly opened his eyes. He was mentally exhausted, his eyelids heavy as lead, but a gleaming excitement burned in his gaze.

His cultivation had officially entered the fast lane. At this rate, advancing to Sequence 2 of the Smoke Apostle pathway was no longer a distant dream.

I wonder what abilities Sequence 2 unlocks?

But speculation would have to wait. He had one last task before he could collapse.

He forced himself upright and summoned the system interface.

“System, initiate the upgrade. Fuse the Bone of the Man-Eating Two-Headed Cow.”

[Raw Material: Bone of the Man-Eating Two-Headed Cow detected.] [Upgrade Plan for Doomsday Pickup generated…] [Result: The vehicle will be evolved into a true Artifact.] [Cost: 20,000 Slaughter Points.] [Duration: 96 Hours.] [Confirm Upgrade?]

Chen Ye scanned the blueprint one last time to ensure there were no errors, then tapped [Confirm].

The moment the command registered, his last reserve of willpower evaporated. He fell back onto the sand and was asleep before he hit the ground.

Not long after Chen Ye drifted off, a staggering figure approached the camp.

Under the bloody light of the moon, her pink hair looked like a waterfall of dried blood. It was Sun Qianqian. She had spent the night on the far side of the dunes, draining every ounce of stamina she possessed in manic training.

She reached her vehicle and yanked the door open. A small figure bundled in a thick down jacket poked her head out.

“Cousin, you’re back late again!” Little Yu complained.

“Zip it,” Sun Qianqian slurred, diving into the back seat. “I’m dead. Don’t wake me up unless the world ends.”

Within seconds, she was snoring. Little Yu puffed out her cheeks in annoyance but dutifully pulled a blanket over her exhausted cousin.

Nearby, in the yellow school bus, the rest of the crew was sleeping. In the oversized bed at the rear, Mad Lion lay unconscious. The flesh on his neck was squirming, slowly regenerating a head—one that looked distinctly simpler and more brutish than his primary persona.

“AHHHH—!”

A blood-curdling scream shattered the silence of the night.

Chen Ye, who had barely slept for 30 minutes, jolted awake. He sat up, shivering as the desert’s freezing night air bit into his skin. He realized he had fallen asleep right on the dune.

Lights flickered on across the camp.

Chen Ye grabbed a flashlight from his pile of supplies and scrambled down the slope.

“Yezi! You hear that?”

Captain Chu Che emerged from the shadows, coat draped over his shoulders, beam cutting through the darkness. Behind him stood Uncle Abao and Xiao Wang, the assistant.

“Just woke up,” Chen Ye grunted, rubbing his face.

“It’s… it’s over at Xue Nan’s tent!” someone shouted. “Something happened!”

Chen Ye and Chu Che exchanged a look, then followed the sound of the wailing, which had turned into wet, gurgling sobs.

A crowd had already formed around Xue Nan’s tent. The metallic tang of fresh blood hung heavy in the air.

Chen Ye’s drowsiness vanished. His hand instinctively drifted to the handle of the Heavy Machete at his waist.

“Make way! The Captain and Mr. Chen are here!”

The survivors parted like the Red Sea, revealing the horror within.

Even Chen Ye, who had slaughtered his way through anomalies and slavers, hissed in a cold breath.

Xue Nan was crouched on the ground like a feral wolf. The breathtakingly beautiful youth was covered in gore, blood dripping from his chin. His mouth was moving—chewing.

His eyes were crimson, filled with a shattering madness, and his slender body trembled violently. With his long hair matted with blood and his delicate features twisted into a snarl, he looked like a vengeful ghost from folklore—beautiful, tragic, and terrifying.

Beside him lay a hulking man, convulsing in the dirt.

The man was clutching his throat, but blood sprayed through his fingers in arterial jets. From Chen Ye’s angle, he could see the ruin of the man’s neck. A massive chunk of flesh was missing—bitten clean off.

The man’s eyes were wide with terror, fixed on the beautiful monster who had just eaten his throat. He was drowning in his own blood; there was no saving him.

Chen Ye recognized the dying man. He was “Brother Hu” from the camel team, a brute noted for his massive size. Compared to him, Xue Nan looked like a helpless little chick.

But the chick had just slaughtered the hawk.

“Xue Nan… Xue Nan killed Brother Hu!” “He bit his throat out! My god!”

Gasps of horror rippled through the onlookers. The way they looked at Xue Nan shifted instantly. The lust and curiosity that usually followed the crossdresser were replaced by primal fear.

No one needed an explanation. A burly man entering the tent of a beautiful, effeminate youth in the middle of the night? The outcome spoke for itself.

Anyone who caught Xue Nan’s crazed, bloodshot gaze quickly looked away, terrified of provoking the beast.

Chen Ye and Chu Che looked at the dying man, then at the trembling Xue Nan. They exchanged a silent nod.

Simultaneously, the two leaders yawned, turned around, and walked away.

“Uncle Abao, clean this up,” Chu Che muttered over his shoulder.

They went back to sleep.

The next morning, when Chen Ye saw Xue Nan again, he barely recognized him.

The peerless beauty, the “Crossdresser” who blurred the lines of gender with ethereal grace, was gone.

Standing before him was a person with hair chopped short and messy, as if hacked off with a knife.

And the face…

Seven or eight deep, jagged lacerations crisscrossed Xue Nan’s once-flawless features. The wounds were raw and gaping, exposing the red flesh beneath, carved deep enough to show bone.

He had disfigured himself.

The old Xue Nan had been so beautiful it was unsettling. The new Xue Nan was a sight so gruesome that no one dared to look twice.